Chapter 12 Lois
I should be over the moon. The clinical practice sessions are finally starting up, which is when sports therapy students get their hands dirty and start learning on actual, real live humans.
Today’s lesson is all about pool-based conditioning and stretching, and everyone in my class is desperate to get started.
A chance to finally roll up our sleeves and dive right in.
The Cardinals are our guinea pigs, and I have to admit—there’s nothing quite like a basketball player’s thigh to practice on.
I watch the guys burst into the sports complex, Kirk leading the charge, pushing open the double doors. I lower my gaze, without really knowing why. Yeah, I should be over the moon. But deep down, I’m terrified.
I look up, and I instantly wish I hadn’t. Donovan and Lewis are bringing up the rear.
The professor claps his hands. “I know practicals can be very exciting, but let me remind you that this grade weighs heavily on your final result.” He flips open his notebook. “Can the pool group please take up your positions. The rest of you, come over and join me.”
I head over to Professor Moretti, silently thanking him for sparing me an hour parading around in my swimsuit. I probably won’t be so lucky next week, though.
The coach arrives, and the players fall quiet. Even if I didn’t already know, I’d have guessed this was Donovan’s dad. They’re carbon copies of each other—the same chestnut hair and brown eyes, the same mannerisms.
“Okay, guys. I want half of you in the pool and the other half on dry land. When I blow the whistle, switch.”
“Yes, Coach!”
I don’t need to scan the crowd for Kirk. I instinctively know where he is. Our eyes meet for a split second, and I freeze. Great. The one time he actually looks at me, and I just stand there looking like a dying fish.
He heads toward the diving board and jumps in, swimming over to a corner, a brunette hot on his trail.
I sigh. I know every inch of that body by heart.
I miss it all so bad. Over our four years together, I saw him grow up and fill out—I watched him turn into a total knockout.
I blink away the rising tears, and turn my attention back to the professor.
“Today, we’ll be focusing on the thigh muscles: the adductors, tensor muscles, and quadriceps.”
“What about the glutes?” a girl whispers somewhere behind me.
“Don’t forget: Grading starts immediately.”
I rub my palms together, massaging the pads of my hands as I wait for him to pair us up. Please, God, anyone but Lewis or Don! I’d even be willing to take on that super hairy guy over there. Anyone but them.
“I’m feeling generous this morning,” he says as he grabs up his pen. “I’ll let you choose your own patient.”
I jerk my head up, suddenly comforted as I watch some of the girls fighting over the two Campus Drivers.
“Sorry, but I signed an exclusivity clause!” Lewis brushes off the clamoring hands. “Loooisss!”
No. No! I keep my head purposefully turned in the opposite direction, desperately scanning the crowd for another player.
He already humiliated me during their stupid welcome meeting—there’s no way it’s happening again here.
I find it hard enough to make friends as it is, the last thing I need is a horde of frustrated college girls on my back.
“Loooisss!”
Jesus, I can’t stand when he says my name like that!
Professor Moretti is frowning, and so I do my best to turn back to Lewis, beaming. He waves, and I scowl back.
“Here, kitty-kitty-kitty! Come and sit on Uncle Lewis’s lap.”
“Conley!” a voice thunders behind me.
“Relax, Coach. Lois is a Super Friend!”
“Do you plan on spending the hour just standing there, Ms. Hogan?” Professor Moretti asks.
“No, but—”
“Then get to work!”
I walk stiffly over to where Lewis is lying on a massage table. Some of my classmates throw me jealous, dirty looks; others sigh with disappointment. They’re pathetic. Donovan sits down a little farther along, and blows me a kiss.
Kill me now.
“Be gentle with me,” Lewis says. “I’m a sensitive guy.”
I ignore him, glancing at the diagrams stuck to the board at the back of the room. I turn back and stand there, staring at Lewis’s taut thighs.
“Are you experimenting with telepathic massage?”
I place a hand just above his knee, my index finger braced against his thigh. I take a deep breath in and press down along his quadriceps with all my might.
“Hey!”
When Lewis starts writhing, I tighten my grip on his leg.
“What’s going on here?” the professor calls over.
“Just a cramp, sir.” I smile.
Lewis rubs his thigh. “That hurt.”
“Really? I’m so sorry. I’m just a freshman, you know.”
He snickers, crossing his arms behind his head. I decide to tone it down a little. The last thing I need is a bad grade.
“So anyway: What’s new in the land of the superheroes?”
I scoop out a little ointment. “Nothing much.”
“What about your ex?” he whispers, glancing over at Kirk.
“Let’s keep this relationship purely professional, okay?” I say, smoothing my palm up to brush against his shorts.
“You’re still crashing on Lane’s couch, so I’m guessing nothing’s changed there.”
My hands tense up.
“I don’t mean it that way,” he adds. “It’s cool you’re there—Lane has been way more chill since he started taking his bad moods out on you.”
That gets a smile out of me. The truth is my roommate has been much more relaxed for a while now.
I don’t want to contradict Lewis, but those bad moods he mentioned have all but vanished.
Ever since we started our movie nights, things have shifted between me and Lane, and it feels good—though it still stresses me out to think he could put an end to me crashing there at any time.
Staying at his was only ever meant to be a stopgap, and I’ve been on his couch for nearly a month and a half now.
I’m carrying on as if it were no big deal, hoping that Lane doesn’t randomly lose his shit at some point.
I make sure I stock up the fridge every week; I clean the living room; I scour the bathroom.
I make sure I never venture down the hallway that leads to his bedroom—the one with the mysterious spare room I’ve never seen.
I asked him about it once and he shut me down so fast I never brought it up again.
He’s oddly protective about that space, guarding it like it’s sacred or something, and I can’t help wondering what the hell he’s hiding in there.
Lewis’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“What?” I ask him.
“I felt something, right there.”
I move back to where he’s pointing. “Here?”
“Yeah, like an electric current.”
I switch positions and move around the table for a little extra space, crouching down and placing a finger on his outer thigh, tracing the length of a large scar I hadn’t noticed before. When I press down harder, his leg jerks.
“It’s your scar.” I stand. “It’s normal for it to be a little more sensitive, it looks like the cut was deep. Nerves get more responsive after trauma. How did you do that?”
“My dad builds tree houses, I help out every summer. Six or seven years ago, I hurt myself with one of his saws, a piece of wood landed right there. It was pretty major.”
“I can imagine; though it could have been worse.”
“True, a little higher up and I would’ve lost Woody.”
“Woody?” It takes me a moment to get it. “You dumbass!”
He pouts, and I burst out laughing, shaking my head.
He’s a nice guy, when he’s not busy teasing me.
Professor Moretti wanders over to ask me some questions, watch me work, and take notes, and Lewis makes my job a whole lot easier.
When the coach orders us to switch, I thank Lewis.
I barely have time to take a step back when he smacks a kiss on my cheek, and I feel myself blush as I watch him head to the pool.
“Next week it’s my turn,” Donovan crows, nudging me with his shoulder before taking a running leap and dive-bombing into the pool.
I pace in front of the massage table, suddenly on edge as the second group arrives. Kirk is among them. He’s dripping wet still, and as I watch him towel himself down, I can’t peel my eyes away.
“Come on, guys, get settled in!”
The athletes scatter, and I don’t know what I want right now.
I’m dying to touch Kirk, but I’m not sure I can handle him blanking me.
This would be the perfect time to reconnect, though.
My nerves are fluttering. The air is so hot all of a sudden, I’m struggling to breathe.
I think I might be chickening out, but ultimately, fate decides for me.
“Hey, Lois.”
My tongue has swollen to three times its usual size.
I don’t say a word as Kirk sits down on the table, stretching out and tugging at his wet swim shorts, his face blank, his eyes turned away.
I don’t understand how we got to this point, how he can act like we’re two total strangers.
The worst part is I can’t find my anger. All I feel is misery.
“Watch out, I’ve got a contracture—”
“Right here?” I finish for him, my fingers brushing his inner thigh.
“Yeah.”
He breathes out through pinched lips. This is his weak spot. How could I forget? I spent whole hours massaging this exact square inch of skin, and I’m so sad he felt the need to remind me.
My fingers shake as I jam them into the tub of cream, and when I reach for his leg, all my technique has deserted me.
“How are classes?” I hear myself ask.
“Good.”
“Great.”
I’m breathless, beads of sweat trickling down my back. I wait for him to bat the question back to me, but nothing comes.
“How are your parents doing?”
Did he just sigh?
“Good.”
“Do they know?”
As soon as the question leaves my lips, I regret it.
“Of course they do.” His voice is horribly flat. “Don’t yours?”
“I mean… I haven’t had the chance just yet.”